To the editor:
It is hard to believe that it will soon be 20 years since my home quivered on that morning, April 19, 1995. My family and I rushed out the front door to see what happened. Was it an earthquake? Had a plane crashed?
Ten miles to our south, a large cloud of brown dust rose slowly into a beautiful clear sky and then started drifting slowly to the west.
The front half of the Murrah Federal Building had just been reduced to rubble.
I am no preacher, but it seems to me that surely God and the angels instantly accepted above the men, women and children who lost their lives in the senseless tragedy. What great adventures in life did each of them miss out on?
The next day a friend of mine told me he witnessed the explosion. A car salesman sitting with his feet on his desk, looking out the window in the direction of the Murrah Building, which was two blocks away. He saw a fireball 20 stories high and thought “What’s that?” Then he saw a crack in the window and thought “What’s that?” Then he saw the floor was covered with broken glass.
Someone, I’m not sure who, has turned the site of this tragedy into a memorial and museum. A place of virtue that the storms of time will never diminish, a work of art with a message of kindness, love and mercy that will be written onto the hearts of all the people who see it or even think about it forever, a message that could apply to the victims of all human tragedies forever.
With today’s interactive technology, anyone on the planet can pick up their phone and visit the place.
Could this happen again?
In any city?